


and not to yield

by Carmilla



Category: The Limehouse Golem (2016)
Genre: First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M, but with minimal rescuing, rescue romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmilla/pseuds/Carmilla
Summary: He sees Flood with men, sometimes.
Relationships: George Flood/John Kildare
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	and not to yield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/gifts).



He sees Flood with men, sometimes. In public, of course; at music halls, at street fairs, most often at a pub at the week’s end. And so naturally there’s nothing anyone could object to in his conduct. It’s not an arrestable offence, to turn your head to a man, and talk softly into his ear. To laugh too loud at his jokes, fierce with joy. To brush his wrist with your fingers when you want him to look at you again. Flood is... not  _ in _ discreet. And so however much Kildare winces at what seems to him like unbearable exposure, he never talks to him about it.

The lad’s entitled to some happiness, after all. He wouldn’t want his own loneliness for him.

He  _ wouldn’t _ .

But the man tonight is different. He didn’t come in with Flood, as Flood’s companions usually do. He was a friendly stranger, dropping a word in his ear, happy to buy them both a drink. And when Flood turns his back for a minute, there’s a sudden, mad hunger in his eyes that makes Kildare shudder.

So when the two of them leave together, elbows just brushing, Kildare doesn’t let himself think too hard about what he’s doing, and follows them.

If they’d gone far, he probably would have talked himself out of it; realised just how drastically he was overstepping, reminded himself that Flood was a grown adult in need of nobody’s rescue, least of all his. But they’ve only walked a couple of streets before the man tugs Flood sideways, somewhere out of sight, and half a minute later somebody cries out in pain. Kildare breaks into a run.

When he reaches him, Flood is standing at the edge of the alley; the man is a couple of feet away from him, stooped over, a hand clapped to his face. His nose appears to be bleeding. At Kildare’s appearance, he shoots one brief, venomous look at Flood, and turns on his heel.

Flood is staring at him. Kildare does his best to muster an even tone.

“Are you quite well?”

Flood blinks, and takes a breath, visibly stilling himself.

“A bit shaken, sir. He, ah, presumed a little. But I’m not hurt. Apart from the hand, I suppose.”

He holds his rapidly swelling knuckles up for inspection.

“Well I’m glad it wasn’t worse. But that could do with looking at. I don’t live too far from here,” Kildare hears himself say. “You’d best come along and let me see to it.”

“I!” Flood bites back whatever he was about to say. “Of course, sir.”

His house is indeed only about ten minutes’ walk from where they are. They make it briskly, in silence, Flood shooting him sidelong looks all the while. He fixes his eyes firmly ahead so as not to meet them.

He lets them in and ushers Flood straight through to the kitchen. There he busies himself, wetting bandages to wrap around Flood’s hand, and putting a kettle on for tea. Flood looks around the place with unabashed curiosity, and Kildare wonders what conclusions he’s coming to. In the two years they’ve worked together, Flood’s never been inside his home. But then, besides the charwoman, nobody has in, he thinks, nearly half a decade. Too long. Whatever the cause, still too long.

He clears his throat, and Flood looks at him, expectantly.

“I realise - ” he falters, and tries again. He can feel the blood warm in his cheeks. “I owe you an apology. It was inexcusable of me to - of course I had no right to interfere in your private business.” Flood says nothing, merely looks at him evenly, and Kildare recognises the interrogation technique. Just sit there and let them fill the silence. 

It works.

“The fact is - ” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He closes his eyes, and almost shudders again, thinking of it. “And probably I was paying too much attention, to have noticed, and clearly you had the matter well in hand -”

“Sir.” Flood lays his fingers on the back of Kildare’s wrist, and they feel like a brand. “Surely you must know by now, it can be your business. It can be your business whenever you want it to be.” He smiles a crooked half smile. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Helplessly, Kildare turns his hand over to grasp Flood’s.

“I don’t understand how you can be so unafraid.”

“And I don’t understand - is it so frightening, to want something?”

Kildare meets his eyes.

Flood says, “Oh,” very softly, and slowly, slowly, leans in and presses their lips together. Kildare shakes under his touch, and holds on.

After a long moment, Flood pulls back. He gives a brief half chuckle. “All this time, I’ve had you all backwards.” He pulls Kildare’s hand upwards, and brushes his mouth over the knuckles. “I am your business, sir. And I’m going to make you mine.”

And Kildare closes his eyes, and nods, and decides to be brave.


End file.
